


Sanders Sides Part 7

by LadyoftheWoods



Series: Sanders Sides [7]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 11:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18992158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWoods/pseuds/LadyoftheWoods
Summary: Consequences





	Sanders Sides Part 7

**Author's Note:**

> I like the idea of the Sides each having their own powers, which you saw in the last chapter, and that extends into this one a bit as well.

He landed roughly on the ground, almost unable to tell up from down. He was seeing double, and eyes open or closed he felt the world spinning around him. He coughed, a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth.  
His eyes sparked between violet and gold, head pounding as he tried to get it under control, tried to burn away the poison from his heart. He would not turn against them, he would not let it use him.  
He could hear distant voices, calling his name, but he couldn’t reach them. All his focus was on holding the power back, pushing away the fog threatening to cloud his mind.  
“Luca.” He focused at the surprise of hearing his nickname said by Roman. He swallowed thickly, Roman’s face the only thing in focus.  
“I’m sorry. I can’t…” Lucian trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut for a long moment, pushing back the tide.  
“Hey, look at me. It’s gonna be alright, ok? We’re gonna get you all fixed up.” Roman could see the yellow flaring in Lucian’s eyes, filled with fear and exhaustion. “You just stay awake for me, ok? I need you to stay awake.” Roman begged, trying to keep his own voice even. Lucian shook his head, trying to unplug his ears. His heartbeat was loud and slow in his ears, burning cold and searing heat coming with each breath.  
“Come on Luca. Just hold on.” Lucian smiled crookedly at Roman.  
“You never could tell me what to do.” Lucian’s eyes flared gold and he fell, Roman catching his unconscious body, holding him closely as Logan came running back into the room, Patton trailing behind him, arms full of medical supplies and books.  
He felt like he couldn’t breathe. It was dark, and the walls were closing in on him, squeezing him tighter and tighter, into smaller and smaller spaces, until he was sure any second he would be crushed, suffocated by his own breath. For a moment he heard words, whispers on the wind, but he couldn’t hear over the ragged sound of his breathing.  
He was on a battle field, ragged and bloody, heart cracking and breaking as he looked around him. He saw Roman, limp, eyes open and a gash across his chest. Logan was frozen, arms outstretched in a plea for help, eyes wild with fear, turned to stone. Patton was bleeding out, spear through his heart, barely alive. He looked down and saw his own hands covered in ashes and blood, and knew that he’d done this to them. He felt his own heart stutter on its beats, falling out of sync with the rest of him.  
“We’re losing him!”  
“Just keep him steady, I’m doing the best I can.” The voices called, swirling around him, but he barely heard. Inky tears dripped down his cheeks as he shook, suddenly filled with cold so intense it burned, searing him inside and out, until he silently screamed, burning up on his own despair.  
“Guys, what do we do? There has to be something, there has to!”  
He was deep inside himself, the center of his being, the fortress of his power. The once shimmering walls were cracked and peeling, gilded gold growing in the cracks like ivy, making the whole structure shudder and shake. Looking up he saw a net of golden threads criss crossing the sky, burning through his night and stretching out for eternity, filling him up until there was nothing left of himself. He shuddered as one tower fell, then the other. Ivy of gold tore through the stone, corrupting it and changing it, until he could no longer tell his way out, until it surrounded him, no matter where he ran.  
What was the point of running? What was the point of fighting it anymore? The sickness was buried in him, buried in his heart, it was only a matter of time anyway. He was tired. He slumped to the ground, looking at his feet as the gilded gold ran across the floor. Slowly, it covered the base of his shoes, climbing up his legs, numbing them, freezing them in time and space. He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and letting the numbness flow into him. He could no longer feel his fingertips, hands, lower arms. What a relief, after everything to just feel nothing.  
“Logan, move out of the way!” the distant voice shouted, barely reaching his ears. Sleep was a hairsbreadth away.  
“You don’t know if that will work or even what it will do!” He felt his heart slow, the gold seeping into his bones, into his lungs.  
“It’s better than nothing, now help me or back off!” It was like drowning, but without any of the pain. This is better. Better for everyone. He took a final breath of air, the gold creeping over his face, his mouth, his nose.  
Then red-hot flames scorched through his mind, shocking him back into awareness. Everything around him was ablaze, the burning fire all he could see, flames tall as mountains flickering by, scorching and melting the golden threads, burning them away. The flames roiled around him, knocking him from his feet, sending the blackness scattering, threatening to swallow him up in its inferno.  
A wave of wind washed by him, gusting his hair playfully, coiling around him and warding away the flames, nipping at his ears and nose, spinning in a funnel around him, glowing sea blue. It twirled around him once more, rippling through him, before chasing the flames, extinguishing the fire.  
“Logan, come on, just do it.”  
“But this doesn’t make any sense, we don’t even know what we’re actually doing!”  
“Logan, just trust us.”  
A deep, flowing green rushed across the ground, filling it with green grasses and replacing the smell of burning with sweetness. The wind came back, whispering through the blades, the fire a mild heat now, like a summer’s day.  
Slowly, so slowly, Lucian blinked, squinting, the elements almost taking on human shapes. Almost forms he recognized. They held hands, the blue spirit reached out a hand, imploringly. He felt pulled to it, drawn. Something about it spoke of kindness, of hope.  
“C’mon kiddo. Come on back home.” The words reverberated around him, in him. Home. He had a home. He reached out, hand glowing dimly where he touched the blue spirit, the light racing up his hand and into his arm, across his body until his eyes sent off sparks and the space around him glowed, bursting into light, into violets and lilacs and deep near blacks, filling itself up near to bursting. He felt something, distantly, heard voices. The hand he was holding tugged gently, pulling him along, as the world around him spun into darkness and he fell.  
He jolted awake, something on top off him. He thrashed, fighting against it, trying to free himself, one arm restrained against his chest. He was trapped, he couldn’t breathe, there wasn’t any space, any air….  
Slowly he registered the soft voice talking calmly to him, repeating a name, his name but not, over and over. He gasped, air rushing into his lungs and coughed, taking in great, heaving breaths as someone helped him into a sitting position. Slowly he cracked his eyes open, feeling as if they were weighted down by a ton of bricks and glued shut. As the figure solidified into one solid image, he blinked in surprise.  
“Teach?” His voice was hoarse and thin, his mouth dry. It seemed as if he floated just above his body, he felt light headed and spacey.  
“I kicked the other two out for the moment, Roman wouldn’t stop pacing and Patton chatters ceaselessly when he’s stressed, about the least invigorating topics. Having the most medical knowledge I, of course, volunteered to stay.” He paused, clearing his throat. “And, of course, I do, well, care about you and your wellbeing and would hate to be gone if my presence was urgently required.” He stopped awkwardly, examining Lucian’s eyes. He frowned, noting their lack of focus and dilation.  
“How are you feeling?” Logan asked. Lucian gave a crooked smile.  
“Like a dead man walking, I suppose. Dizzy, tired,” he winced as he was suddenly flooded with all the aches and pains his body had been subjected to. His face was swollen where Roman had hit him, his other cheek still smarting from the cut. He felt like a donkey had kicked him in the ribs, and his arm pounded in pain in time with his pulse. The restraint he’d felt had been his arm, bandaged in a sling against his chest. “Sore.” He added belatedly, realizing he’d been silent for too long, how long had they been talking? He couldn’t remember. He shivered slightly, hugging his arm closer. Logan’s frown deepened, as he helped his friend lay back down, tucking him in and watching him drift into a fitful sleep.  
A concussion. That’s all it was, it explained the dizziness, the lack of focus, the confusion… but not the chills. He let out a low breath of air, pushing up his glasses. He wrapped another blanket around Lucian, shaking his head. They’d just have to wait and see.  
“What was that today, Luca?” Milo asked, popping into his room.  
“What? I decided to give the whole showing up and participating thing a try for once.” He answered, closing the book he’d been writing in. Milo scoffed.  
“And did they care for anything you had to say?” Lucian bit his lip. “I didn’t think so.”  
“I just wanted to try it out, ok? It seemed, I dunno, fun or something.” He replied, scratching the back of his head.  
“Fun? Those stuck up know it alls don’t care about sides like us. They want to pretend we’re not real. They can’t even talk about us unless he asks. We don’t exist.”  
“I do.” Lucian slipped out, before he could stop himself. Milo froze, looking stricken. Then his face darkened and he vanished, ignoring Lucian calling after him.  
“That’s not… what I meant.” He sighed, throwing his book aside and covering his hands with his face.  
It was later. He was mad again.  
“You can’t possibly trust them.” He was astonished.  
“Why not? They’re including me. They want me to be around!” Milo’s eyes blazed.  
“They find you interesting. You’re an amusement to them, a puzzle. They’re only still trying because they want your name. Once they have that they won’t care a thing about you.”  
“That’s not true! They’re trying, even Roman is trying! Why is it so hard for you to believe that other sides would want to be my friend?” Lucian demanded.  
“Because why would they!?” Milo yelled, and Lucian blanched, stone still. “I didn’t mean…. I meant they don’t understand our purpose. They can’t see that it’s good to be afraid, or overthink. In time, they’ll find you a nuisance.” Milo finished, gently, reaching out to Lucian.  
Lucian shoved him away, glaring up at him, a look Milo had never seen on his face. It was rage, but underneath he could see the hurt. He’d hit him right in his core.  
“And why should I listen to you? Why should I even trust you? Deceit.” Milo took a step back, eyes glittering dangerously. Lucian had never, never called him that.  
“Fine. Go play dolls and make believe with those self-righteous light sides. Tell them your name, tell them everything you’ve ever thought or felt or dreamed, and see if they still like you then. See if they understand you like I do.” Lucian let out a frustrated hiss.  
“This is the problem with you! You’re just using me, you’re just afraid of being alone, so you’re trying to keep me here, doubting myself, instead of going out there. I can do something, I can be something, but not by staying in this room. And not by staying in yours.” Milo stared at him, long and hard, but Lucian refused to look away. He opened his mouth, closed it again. Then vanished in a black cloud. Lucian sank to the ground, back against his bed, and hugged his knees, closing his eyes as he cried, stifling his sobs so no one would hear.  
“Virg? It’s ok kiddo. Hush, shh, it’s ok.” He cracked open his eyes, squinting in the light. His face was wet. Had he been crying? Why would he be crying? He was cold. He shivered, curling into a ball under the blankets piled on him, trying to keep from trembling. Pain and exhaustion pumped through him unceasingly. He felt a hand on his forehead, gently stroking his hair. Opening his eyes a crack further he saw kitten paws dangling at his eye level.  
“Patton, I’m cold.” His voice was barely a whisper, but he couldn’t seem to be any louder. It didn’t matter, Patton heard. Lucian looked up and saw him smile shakily, eyes dark with worry.  
“I know kiddo. You just get some more rest, and when you wake up everything will be fine and dandy.” His voice was filled with false cheer.  
“S’okay to be sad, Pat. I dunno what you’re sad for though.” He murmured, already drifting back to sleep.  
Patton choked back a rush of tears, placing his hand on Virgil’s forehead. It was burning hot, Virgil himself looked pale as death and so, so fragile. He grabbed another blanket to drape over Virgil, watching him snuggle deeper into his blanket burrow. He sat back down beside him, letting out a breath. It would all be fine.  
“Stupid.”  
“Worthless”  
“Waste of time”  
“Waste of space”  
“Why do we even try?”  
“What’s the point?”  
“Failure.”  
“Idiot”  
“Didn’t want you”  
“Should have stayed gone”  
“Never wanted to see you again”  
“Hate you”  
“HATE you”  
“Got us all killed”  
“Put us all in danger”  
“Liability.”  
The words swirled through his mind, echoing and repeating, starting as whispers and turning to shouts, circling him, bombarding him, in his voice, in the other’s voices, he couldn’t take it, he knew it, he knew it all.  
“stop.” He whispered, drowned out by the voices.  
“Stop.” He could hear his own voice now, over theirs.  
“STOP IT!” He shot up, gasping, shaking, shivering violently, drenched in sweat. He hugged his knees to his chest, and buried his face in them, still half asleep, half delirious.  
“please please please just stop, just stop, I know I already know.” He whispered, barely audible.  
“Virgil? What are you talking about?” He heard Roman, shaking, he felt a blanket be draped around his shoulders and he pulled it tight, like he did in his bed nest when everything was too much.  
“I know ok? I know I’m stupid and worthless and dumb and a waste and you all hate me, you hate me, so just stop and leave me alone.” Roman, for once, was at a loss for words. Virgil looked so scared, so, just, hopeless.  
Suddenly there were arms wrapped around Lucian, holding him close. He looked up, eyes glassy and saw Roman, face as serious as he’d ever been.  
“Don’t you ever say that about yourself again. Don’t ever think any of us hate you. We- I- could never hate you, Virg. Ok?”  
“Ok.” He whispered, falling back asleep, no longer shaking, curled against Roman’s side like a cat. Trembling, Roman felt his forehead. The fever had broken. He leaned back, letting out an exhausted sigh of relief before yawning hugely, drifting off himself.


End file.
